


Shredded

by karasunovolleygays



Series: Sportsfest 2019 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: And so are their rivalries, Boys Are Dumb, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24907384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: Kuroo's shining moment of digital stardom was threatened by an opponent of the serpent variety.
Relationships: Daishou Suguru & Kuroo Tetsurou
Series: Sportsfest 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802278
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Shredded

The noise of the arcade was welcome to Kuroo’s tired soul. After a solid month of dousing his brain in exam studies, it was time to light the match and burn it all away in a weekend full of video games and bad pizza.   
  
Of course, Kenma hated the place because it was dirty and loud, but those very things made Kuroo feel right at home. Maybe he was an alley cat, after all.   
  
After half an hour of nonstop Pac-Man, Kuroo heard the siren song of the Guitar Hero game calling out to him. He had no musical skill, neither vocal nor instrumental, but he was relatively dexterous and had sharp hand-eye coordination. That was more than enough to make him a rockstar, if only within the bounds of this one game.   
  
Just as he was easing the strap over his shoulder and extending it to a usable length, a terribly familiar voice oozed through the background din and rang in his ears. “I thought I smelled garbage.”   
  
Kuroo’s fingers tightened dangerously around the neck of the plastic guitar. “Well, if it isn’t everyone’s favorite cartoon villain.”   
  
Daishou edged closer to the game machine and took the second guitar. “You should pick something else to play. Something done in neo-crayon chic.”   
  
Plugging a token into the machine, Kuroo smirked and drew himself to his full height to loom over Daishou. It was petty and he probably looked like a jackass, but he had one single allergy and that was losing at anything to Daishou. “Care to find out for sure?”   
  
Mouth open to respond, Daishou’s jaw snapped close when a much softer yet also familiar voice joined the fray. “Suguru, there you are! Did you want to —” Mika sighed loudly when she noticed the two of them in the midst of a standoff. “Nice to see you again, Tetsu-chan.”   
  
“Likewise.” Kuroo cast Daishou a sidelong glance and relished the way his old rival bristled at the sight of Kuroo planting a kiss on the back of Mika’s hand. 

Daishou was quicksilver fast as he tugged Mika out of Kuroo’s grip. “Don’t let him touch you or you’ll get fleas on you.”   
  
Mika rolled her eyes and wriggled out from under Daishou’s arm. “You’re doing this  _ now _ ? Really?” She shook her head. “Whatever. I’m going to get some bubble tea. If I find you two coming to blows, we’re leaving.” She was almost blended into the crowd before she called over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’ll tell your mother.”   
  
Kuroo could hardly stifle a laugh when Daishou blanched at Mika’s threat, but when he heard her giggle while she walked away, he lost that battle immediately. “Dude, you should see your face.”   
  
“I hate you so much.” Daishou adjusted the guitar and glared at Kuroo. “Well, are we doing this thing or not?”   
  
Waggling his brows, Kuroo replied, “It’s on like Donkey Kong, you unctuous invertebrate.”

Daishou inserted a token of his own, and the battle began.

“Medium is for losers,” Daishou drawled as Freebird queued up. “Face me like a man.”

Kuroo flexed his fingers over the buttons on the neck. “I suppose I could slum it on Hard to make it fair.”

“Shots fired.” Daishou selected Expert and blew on his fingertips. A greasy leer spread across his lips. “I’m going to destroy you, Tetsu-kun.”

Before he could rebut, the song started. If not for reflexes honed by playing this particular song, he would’ve missed the first note, but it didn’t take long for an almost hypnotic sense of concentration took over. Daishou’s taunts faded away, and nothing remained but fingers flying over keys in perfect harmony with the barrage of notes flying toward him. 

By the time the last drawn out note came and he was wailing the whammy bar for those last few points, Kuroo finally realized that the room was almost silent around him save for the clamor of various games beckoning people to them. 

A hushed crowd had gathered around them, and Daishou’s guitar hung unheeded from its strap as he stared. “Dude,” Daishou croaked.

“What?” Kuroo shook the kinks out of his fingers, only to find that everyone in sight was gaping at him just like Daishou had. All at once, they all burst into raucous applause and chanted just like the faceless crowds in the game. 

When he looked at the screen, he finally understood why. “Holy shit.” The 100% glowed in an almost ethereal light, or maybe Kuroo was just light in the head. He thrust his arms up in the air and crowed in victory.

As he sat down for bad pizza and flat soda that appeared in front of him, Kuroo reaped the rewards of his conquest. It wasn’t every day someone got to hit that kind of score on what was arguably the most difficult song in the game. Even less frequently could one do so while grinding an obnoxious weasel’s face under his heel.

After he was regrettably full, Mika slid into the chair opposite him looking even more tired than he was in his carbohydrate-induced stupor. “Sorry in advance, Tetsu. If I’d have known he was going to do that, I would’ve stopped him.”

Kuroo waved off her apology. “No need to think about that. I’m fully capable of trouncing his ass on my own.”

Mika sighed loudly. “That’s not what I mean. You’ll see.”

A taste of dread the flavor of which Kuroo could only attribute to Daishou lingered in his mouth, with Mika’s ominous words ringing in his ears. Something — he didn’t know what — wasn’t right.

Wandering back to the now-dormant Guitar Hero game, Kuroo looked at the display and his jaw dropped. Up at the top of the leaderboard was his score, accompanied by a username only one person could have been evil enough to be responsible.

“Suguru’s lil bitch,” he read aloud, and what he did (or, rather, did NOT do) began to sink in. The memories of a victory lap around the arcade surfaced, with him leaving the guitar and the high score entry blinking behind him.

“Damn it!” 

A familiar, terrible, no good, grimy, villainous laugh wafted from behind the machine. Daishou’s head popped out from the side, and he gave a cheery little wave. “Gotcha.”


End file.
